Chapter 27

1601

Lilias

I had inadvertently settled into some form of routine during those first few days, while I still had energy. I would get out of bed and go to the table where my water pitcher stood. At first, I would pour my drink into the crude beaker beside it. After a few days, however, I simply gulped it down straight from the jug. Since I had still not eaten anything, I found my thirst almost unquenchable. It was as if my body were craving sustenance of any kind, even if that came only in the form of water.

I would then attempt to clean the room using a small broom I’d found under the bed. I brushed and swept away all the debris that fell through the unglazed window. One day I sat down on my bed and actually laughed when I found something for which I could be grateful, ludicrous though my thought was. It was that thankfully it wasn’t autumn, otherwise there would not only be whatever debris swirled around on the wind throughout the year, there’d also be falling autumn leaves. Although I wondered if there were any trees on the island, since I did not hear any birds.

I then made my bed up, which entailed shaking the gowns that I laid over myself to keep me warm in the cold winter nights. After, I plaited my hair over and over again, for it gave me something to do. I’d removed the pearls from the plaits and they now lay beside the water pitcher in loose coils, the memory of a former life.

It was one day – I had no idea how many days after I had been here – when I was, as usual, feeling so weak that I wondered if I could be bothered to sweep the floor, that a thought sprang into my head when I caught sight of the pearls. I sat down on 125 the chair to conserve my energy and wait for the vile man – Kenneth, he’d said his name was – to arrive with my water and to make the fire up.

I spent much of those long days thinking. I thought about my beautiful daughters with such an ache it caused me pain in my heart. They must be worrying about me. But then I had tried to imagine what Alexander might have told them – that I had died on the journey? If so, the servants would surely not all have lied? Though, on reflection, the servants he had picked to accompany us were not what I would have called either bright or unduly loyal. I wondered if my husband had paid them off. I went through each of them in my head and came to the conclusion that none had family near Fyvie Castle. All, to my knowledge, had come from Edinburgh and East Lothian, near the family seat of Seton Palace. So I realised, as my stomach lurched, that instead of returning home with him and his lies, they might be going on, generously paid, to their families further south.

I also thought of Mama and everyone at Drummond Castle. As I remembered my sister Catherine and her husband, I could not help recalling how Alexander had looked at Grizel that day, with such ardour in his gaze. I couldn’t recollect my husband ever looking at me in that lustful way. I was just so relieved that my sister had not seen his face.

To try to remove this memory, I then thought of my one dear friend, Marie. I tried to imagine her at the convent, dressed in her drab grey habit, such a change from the luxurious gowns and jewels she used to wear at Court. It would soon be time to write to her and yet I had no means. I had already asked Kenneth for some ink and paper, but he shook his head and muttered, “You’d think I was your servant. I answer to no one but my Master and he commanded me to do two things – give you water and make your fire. That is all.” 126

When I then pleaded with him again for some food – anything, a hunk of stale bread, some leftover porridge – he spat on the floor with contempt, then strode to the door and slammed it behind him as he left.

The key turned in the lock and I sat bolt upright in the chair. I had to try to be charming, though I was convinced Kenneth was totally unsusceptible to charm of any kind. In he came, grizzly as usual, thumping down the water and easing himself onto his knees to tend the fire. I had wondered whether to try to rush for the door, though I could not move fast these days. And I also recalled with a sigh that he always locked it from the inside too.

I waited until he had finished with the fire.

“Kenneth,” I said, forcing myself to be friendly, though, dear God, he did not deserve my kindness, “I was wondering; do you have a wife?”

He shook his head and struggled to his feet.

“Or perhaps a sister? A daughter?” I had no idea at all how old he was. “A mother?”

He could have been sixty, he could have been thirty. He was so filthy and unkempt and had one of those ugly faces that would have looked scarily disquieting as a young man and chillingly macabre as an older man.

He swivelled around, eyes dull with disdain.

I held up the pearls and once more attempted a smile. “Might she perhaps like these?”

He stared at them, I thought perhaps interested. “I was wondering if you might be able to permit me some food – anything at all, leftovers – and perhaps a walk outside, in exchange for these valuable pearls?” 127

I was hoping that, once outside, I could run down the steps towards the boat and jump in it before rowing to the loch’s shore. I was ignoring the fact that I was becoming so weak I could hardly walk, never mind run.

After some time staring at the string of pearls, he sniffed loudly. “Not worth my job,” he muttered. “Rules have to be obeyed and that’s that,” he said, heading for the door. He turned around as if to speak, but then obviously changed his mind and unlocked the door. As I had anticipated, he did not even have a heart.